Chapter 1049: Contradictions Inside Her
Besse studied Doyle intently, acutely aware that his self-destructive behavior would resume the moment she left. No one could stop him. Her gaze fell on his right hand. At the time of the car accident, she hadn't paid much attention to it; now, she recalled his desperate efforts to protect her. He'd lost his right hand, injured by the crushed car seat.
She said, "Doyle, didn't you say I could help you achieve your dream?"
His eyes were red. "I thought I could be great," he said, "accept my failings, hold no resentment. After all, we're both alive, back from the brink. At the moment of the accident, I even thought that as long as you lived, I could bear anything. Even death, or disability..."
Self-deprecation laced his words. "However," his voice choked, and he struggled for composure. "When I picked up a pen and couldn't even hold it, I realized I wasn't as carefree as I thought. I can't... I can't do it. All that design inspiration, so strong in my mind, is now inaccessible. Those ideas will wither, unknown."
Besse understood his anguish. For a designer, even one described as obsessed, the inability to create must be unbearable. The helplessness, the despair, must be agonizing.
"Doyle, I'm sorry," she said.
He looked stunned. "Why apologize?"
"It's not my fault. Your hand... it's not my problem."
"This is Skye's retaliation, nothing to do with you. I almost implicated you."
"But you protected me, and lost your hand."
"I've never blamed you."
"But I blame myself."
"Doyle, seeing you like this makes me feel even guiltier," Besse said, attempting to soothe him. She truly felt responsible for his suffering. He tried to control himself. "Listen, it has NOTHING to do with you."
Besse remained silent.
He couldn't bear to see her upset. He'd been cruel to himself, but her pain overwhelmed his pride. He approached her, kneeling to meet her gaze.
"Besse, I won't hurt myself anymore. Please, don't be sad."
His words pierced her heart. Even in his own torment, he prioritized her feelings. Whenever she was unhappy, he dismissed his own to comfort her.
"Don't cry," he panicked as tears welled in Besse's eyes. Years since they met, he'd never seen her cry; she'd become so strong.
He wiped her tears with his left hand, his right stiff and immobile, his panic palpable. "Besse, don't cry! My heart breaks..."
Besse bit her lip, fighting back sobs, then succumbed, releasing pent-up emotions. She was at war with herself. Doyle's kindness felt like a burden; she feared her choices would irrevocably hurt him. She knew the devastating power of heartbreak.
"Besse, whatever you say is fine. I won't be sad. I won't hurt myself. Don't cry, okay?" He frantically wiped her tears. He couldn't bear to see her cry for him.
Besse gazed at him, seeing the anxiety and sincerity in his eyes. She nodded, a small smile forming. She'd endured much.
"Let the doctor treat your wound," she said.
"Okay." He would do anything she asked. Even on the brink of collapse, he would endure.
He returned to the bed, allowing the doctor to clean his wound.
"Besse, I want to go back to Jolencami." Her heart skipped a beat.
"Can I be discharged?" he asked the doctor.
"Mr. George, your recovery is swift. Before discharge, we need a comprehensive physical examination. If all is well, you can leave."
"When can we schedule it?"
"Ideally, a day before discharge."
"I'll do it now." He wanted to leave tomorrow.
"Doyle, let's do it tomorrow," Besse intervened. "You can leave two days later, after the exam, and I'll buy plane tickets. I'll accompany you home."
"Don't you want to leave?" he asked, knowing she could go anytime, but she waited for him.
"No, I'm afraid you're too weak." He sensed her unspoken distress.
"Besse, something's troubling you?"
"No. The day after tomorrow, I'll book tickets, and we'll return to Jolencami."
He nodded.
"Rest well. I'll tell Susan."
"Okay."
"And don't hurt yourself again!" she cautioned firmly.
"All right."
Besse smiled faintly as she left his ward, her heart heavy.